Killer Caress
by InsaneScriptist
Summary: Most people find touch easy and comforting. An assassin knows that any touch can kill. Any touch is a risk. One-shot.


Killer Caress by InsaneScriptist

Beta'd by the dedicated Umei no Mai.

Notes: Not my usual Xanxus, Squalo or Varia.

Summary: Most people find touch easy and comforting. An assassin knows that any touch can kill. Any touch is a risk.

* * *

Squalo observes the mooks in front on him. The signs of pain are very well concealed, but the fear -utter terror to be more accurate- is less so.

"Pathetic." He informs them.

They bow their heads in shame.

"What sort of trash are you?" He mutters in their direction. Then he gives them orders. "Get that cleaned up, and then get your lazy asses moving. Ten laps around the castle then double the standard exercises." He barks.

They salute him back.

Squalo scowls at them and motions a dismissal. They rush off to find cleaning supplies. Xanxus is terrifying to the mooks during one of his semi-regular snits. It is practically a rite of passage for the Varia now.

That annoying ass Boss of his made a mess but there's no obvious reason that he has done it this time that Squalo can think of. Unlike every other idiot in this place, Squalo has noticed that Xanxus usually has reasons for acting like he does. Sometimes they even make sense.

Xanxus is a good Boss, but he's not an easy one. Never has been, but that's how Squalo likes it. It'd be boring as fuck otherwise without the insanely dangerous edge that only his Boss has.

Alright, Squalo knows his sanity could be called into question for following such a crazy temperamental fucker but that doesn't make his logic any less sound. Still, Squalo knows his damn duty to his Boss because all the other people around him were fucking idiots and lacked the sense God gave kittens.

So now it is his goddamn duty to make sure that his Boss doesn't burn the castle down in a fit of rage. Rage that had been provoked in some minor way like stoking a fire, except the idiots around him would use petrol instead of fucking water in their stupid ass attempts to put it out. Xanxus may have more no-go zones than a minefield but Squalo is more than adept at navigating and defusing the charges before he steps on them.

Otherwise he'd be dead, but those near-misses are the moments he feels most alive -they lead to some of the best spars and fights he's ever had- and he's survived a lot of shit because the only person allowed to kill the Second Sword Emperor is his Boss. Some days Squalo can almost convince himself that it'd be fine but then that momentary insanity passes because what the fuck would those incompetent idiots he calls co-workers -much less the mooks- do without him? They'd all fucking get murdered by their Boss, that's what, because not one of them bothers to pay attention to what's right in front of them.

So Squalo follows his own procedure for finding out where his annoying Boss is sulking -his office, of course- and as Squalo slides into the office Squalo notices a few things that just mean _bad_ news.

First, the room is dark. The thick velvet drapes have been drawn shut. In fact the only sources of light are what creeps around the edges of the window and the door Squalo's opened.

Second, Xanxus has a bottle of vodka next to him. That's a truly terrible sign. At the moment, Squalo would take gin, scotch or even fucking absinthe over vodka; none of those are good signs but vodka is the worst. Tequila is the Boss' happy drink. Whiskey is the comfort drink. Sake is reserved for the days Xanxus needs patience and is on a hair trigger. Wine depends on the bottle but it's generally a good sign in that he's bitchy and threatening but unlikely to seriously attempt murder unless he's provoked.

Vodka is for when Xanxus wants to get drunk as Xanxus ever allows himself to be as fast as he possibly can. Add in the darkness and generally defensive posture... yeah, that points to one fucking killer headache there. Migraine level.

Squalo closes the door behind him, softly.

"Squalo. What are you doing here?" Xanxus asks without even opening an eye, even though the amount of light in here is terrible; not so terrible that Squalo wouldn't be able to tell if his Boss opened his eyes because those blood colored eyes practically glow in the dark with rage. They stay closed. It is another terrible sign.

The Varia are so very good at hiding pain; part of their training. Fucking annoying is what it is. Their Boss just happens to be the best at it. That ice had done a fuck-ton of damage physically, the years missing did damage mentally in ways that couldn't be comprehended without a similar experience and the reason it happened at fucking all left chasms spiritually. Squalo was damn certain that he could almost feel a difference in Xanxus' Flames but it was hard to tell when Xanxus let his wrath take him; there was no room for anything resembling bitterness and regret then.

Prior to the ice, Xanxus never had these fucking headaches; he brooded but he was busy thinking and plotting but never locked away like this in the dark. After the ice, the headaches happened on a near daily basis until Xanxus figured out what caused them and how to fucking manage them; Squalo knew that the headaches were still there but everyone else that had ever known about them seemed to have forgotten about them. That is a fucking stupid move on their part. They hadn't fixed the cause of them after all.

Managing the damn headaches didn't mean getting rid of them so much as avoiding what set them off and learning to deal with them as they came. Most of the headaches were due to physical damage from the ice. Cold weather pulled at the scars hidden by his hair. Headache. Too much light in damaged eyes gave Xanxus a fucking headache. Slept wrong -and Boss was horrible about this too- and it was a headache in the making. Add in how fucking stupid some of the Varia could be and Squalo would happily murder them all while his fucking Boss hid every single sign of pain behind anger.

Sure it isn't so bad now that his Boss had learned how to deal with that shit, including how to anchor an illusion over his eyes so that he didn't have those fucking light issues anymore. His Boss had quickly mastered that trick because as a marksman he needed his eyes, but that didn't mean that Squalo wasn't aware of it. That the illusion spread over the rest of his Boss' body was something that Squalo was fucking aware of every time he fucking looked at Xanxus. Preventing that one way still left a hell of a lot of other ways to set those damn headaches off and sometimes it's stress that does it.

Saying he was checking up on his Boss would be a terrible idea. Nothing confused his Boss like the idea of being cared for -that he was truly worth caring for- and would just cause Xanxus to retreat further away. Maybe to some place he wouldn't come back from.

"Making sure my shitty Boss isn't going to kill any puny underling that gets tapped to bring your goddamn food up here." Squalo replies, with an eyeroll for good measure.

The glass tumbling through the air is dodged with expected ease.

The mostly-empty bottle of Vodka catches him in the gut, where it doesn't shatter, so much as fall to the floor to pour out its meager contents. That hurt but was far more ignorable than a glass to the head; the fact it didn't shatter said the bottle was made of sterner glass or that it hadn't been hurled hard enough. Bit of both, is what Squalo figures.

Usually Squalo would take the cue for what it was and leave before Xanxus pulled out his guns or started flinging fire. Xanxus' temper is to be feared. The minefield analogy is accurate; there is no fuse. Just multiple triggers and big explosion of rage.

Squalo has been feeling brave lately. For most other people that would translate to suicidal.

They weren't Varia Quality.

"What are you doing here shark? Don't you know when you're dismissed?" Xanxus asks, not even a trace of a slur to his words. Those stupid alcoholic tendencies of his Boss pay off, along with Xanxus' distaste for getting actually stupid drunk. Bottle of Vodka? Not getting his Boss stupid-drunk. Buzzed maybe, but not more than that.

Squalo considers his responses to get his Boss to react the way he wants and dismisses them. Today, he's walking off in a new direction in the minefield that was Xanxus after thawing. Not that he hadn't been a minefield before that, but this Xanxus has more triggers to stumble over. Hello to new and explosive ways to almost die.

"Staying anyway, Boss." Squalo responds with a crooked smile that he's only allowing himself because Squalo can't see a damn thing in this dark office. Squalo can however imagine the minute shifts of his Boss' face at the declaration.

"What the hell, shark?" Xanxus asks, and Squalo can imagine him moving. Squalo is Varia Quality and has focused far more attention on his Boss than most people realize; the kind of attention that allows him to learn sword styles from his opponents while fighting them. This close observation pays off in a lot of ways beyond defusing Xanxus' temper.

Squalo strikes. More accurately, Squalo estimates where Xanxus gestured during the question and grabbed his hand. A subtle bite of Rain Flames to that hand and the struggle was on, with Xanxus having an incapacitated hand from the start; made things a bit more even when Xanxus used his superior strength to his advantage by using one arm to drag all of Squalo over the desk.

The headache and alcohol didn't matter; Xanxus could fight better than just about everyone else even when inconvenienced by them. Squalo uses that momentum from the pull to flip himself over, pull Xanxus out of the chair and topple them both to the ground. Xanxus is heavier than Squalo will ever be and has no issue about catching himself on Squalo's body instead of the floor. Squalo's ribs throb where the elbow crashes into them as proof. That whole action was not exactly Squalo's best idea since Xanxus was a lot better at grappling than Squalo ever would be; Squalo has about three feet of hair as a handicap, not even counting the lower weight-class and build differences.

Still, the wrestling allowed Squalo to get a few more subtle tags of Rain Flames going. It's enough to make the busted nose, bruised ribs and general hair-pulling worth it. Xanxus has a busted lip or maybe a nose; whatever it is, it's bleeding on Squalo and into his fucking hair. He hates getting blood in his hair; it takes forever to wash out.

"Flames are cheating, trash." Xanxus taunts from above. His Boss has him pinned from behind. Arms held in place, his hidden sword angled so that if Squalo draws it, all Squalo will be stabbing is himself. Squalo's legs are also pinned and protest holding half of Xanxus' weight; it's too damn bad that Squalo's back is too as that's painful. Xanxus certainly knew how to use his size and weight to get his own way.

"How's the headache, Boss?" Squalo asks in a moment of utter stupidity that lacks a convenient concussion to blame it on. That's too damn direct of a question.

"What headache scum?" Xanxus replies. As the words register, Squalo winces. Far too damn direct. Not only is there denial of a problem that they both know happens on a distressingly regular basis, Squalo has also been downgraded from a bottom-feeding shark to scum. Trash would be better; trash sometimes had value to the right person.

"Rain Flames have the property of tranquility. I figure they ought to do well against any headaches." Squalo states. Then because he's not suicidal, he adds to it hastily. "Should you ever have a headache. Tension headaches are a bitch; I've certainly gotten enough of them from running this madhouse over the years."

Mentioning however obliquely the years Xanxus spent frozen is generally a bad idea but Squalo figures he can get away with it. This time anyway, since Squalo knows that Xanxus is going to latch onto other parts of what Squalo said.

Squalo can practically hear his Boss' confusion.

With every lingering second, Squalo wants to kill all those who have hurt his Boss in the past more and more. Those fuckers that broke Xanxus' confidence in practically everything relating to trust, people and judgement really need to suffer terribly. Xanxus had probably never been fully sane -too wild to be- but most of the old lot in the Vongola were terribly delusional as well; Squalo figures that it would have balanced out if Xanxus could have been Decimo; better than his so called brothers ever could have been anyway. The new lot are all idealists to core and dedicated devotees of the temple called Sawada Tsunayoshi and practice a religion named mercy and love; the brat's Guardians have some skill but they're pretty blind and not nearly as cautious as they should be. The Varia are doing more than the rest of the Vongola realizes to keep everyone else cowed.

Still, Squalo is Varia Quality and buries this persistent murderous impulse in the sea of tranquility that lives inside his Flames. Again. He's had lots of practice at it.

"Whatever." Xanxus mutters eventually, before hoisting himself back into that throne like chair of his. "And bring me my food later, shark."

This time, Squalo obeys the implied dismissal.

* * *

It takes a month and a half before Squalo gets another shot at actually doing something about those headaches for his Boss.

Not that Xanxus hasn't had those blasted headaches as he averages one point three a week, but Squalo had been out. It was a combination of Xanxus' skill at hiding pain and Squalo being busy that prevented the opportunity. A mission here, Dino being annoying there, the Varia being idiots instead of the famed assassins they were supposed to be and a handful of obligatory social parties that his Boss forced him to attend in his stead had filled his calendar up.

Eventually Xanxus runs out of excuses and arranged meetings to duck out of or lucky coincidences in timing. He can't even fake being asleep this time. The one good thing about this is that Xanxus has actually been sleeping in his bed instead of napping in that throne like chair of his as much lately. It prevents the Boss from waking up in an ill mood because he's an idiot about proper sleeping posture.

Squalo catches the slightest wince in his Boss' eyes and herds the mooks out of the room, as fast as is possible without making it look like there was an issue. They look like they're feeling relief from being out of Xanxus' office; it's just another sign that they're pathetic trash in Squalo's opinion. Xanxus in an ill-mood was the best; it made Squalo think and use his strategic mind for something other than missions. It was one of Xanxus' most dangerous too, but Squalo enjoys that too.

Squalo spares a thought about where have all the Quality people gone? Oh, right. They're fucking crazy and not helpful in the least to have around for a headache. Mammon just wouldn't care either way if he wasn't being paid to or got some other benefit out of it. Levi is a fucking annoyance at the best of times but Bel is a headache on his own anyway. Well, Lussuria could be tolerable if a person forgives the whole mother hen thing that the Sun likes to do. Which Boss generally doesn't.

Still, Squalo knows his duty and draws the curtains closed. It's slow going, but some of the tension in Xanxus' shoulders eek out as the ambient light levels are lowered to nearly pitch-black levels.

And then Squalo waits.

He waits patiently and silently.

Eventually the patience and stillness pay off.

"You said something about using Rain Flames on tension headaches."

"Yes, Boss."

"Get to it." Xanxus snaps.

Squalo hears and obeys, carefully touching one side of his Boss' back with his hand made of flesh; gentle but no less deadly. He holds a trace of Rain Flames as he acclimates Xanxus to the touch and sensation.

"Stop." Xanxus orders.

Squalo obeys, curious. Was it not working?

And then Squalo hears the slide of Xanxus' coat down his shoulders. Squalo then remembers that the uniforms are designed to give some measure of defense against Dying Will Flames, bullets and everything else; so long as they're worn properly anyway. Then Xanxus decides to plant his ass on his desk. Not that Squalo can see anything worth shit but his ears still work and he can hear it.

"Do a proper job of it." Xanxus commands, gruffly.

"Yes, Boss." Squalo replies, as his mind works over tactics and what this show of trust means considering how avoident Xanxus has been lately. Squalo starts again, using his flesh hand. Then he brings up his prosthetic hand to the other shoulder. Then Squalo rakes his gloved hands down his Boss' back, dragging flickers of Rain Flames along it.

A few more passes and Squalo is feeling slightly drunk on the thrill of being able to do this. Xanxus can walk without a care with the Varia at his back but it's another thing to let one of them touch him. Mostly, Xanxus initiates any physical contact and it's generally violent, even outside of spars. Exceptions are rare and generally require serious injuries.

Most people find touch easy and comforting. An assassin knows that any touch can kill. Any touch is a risk.

The Varia is made up of some of the best assassins in the world. They know this all too well. This is something that Squalo knows all too well.

Xanxus is even worse because of the Ninth's lies, and bullshit.

A touch cost him eight years.

Spent in ice.

Powerless while the Vongola suffered. Unable to do anything about it due to being frozen. Those facts always put Xanxus in a poor mood, and made him even worse company.

Squalo puts the thoughts out his mind and focuses instead on seeing if he can eek out a massage. His hands have done a few passes of Rain Flames to make sure that his Boss won't object to the touch. Doesn't mean that his fingers haven't told him things.

Bad things at that.

There's the fuck-ton of scarring from the zero-point breakthrough technique. He knew what it looked like somewhat. He had seen the illusion slowly extend and hide everything from sight. Feeling the difference really drove the point of all the damage home, even if his eyes try to convince Squalo that everything is alright.

Xanxus is also about as stiff as a corpse during rigor mortis. How does he even move with his muscles that fucking tense? Probably through sheer force of will and a burning desire.

Squalo spends the upward pass of his hands deciding to risk it or not. If nothing else he can probably get clear of the office before Xanxus draws a weapon if he really uses his Rain Flame's property of Tranquility. A large blast to the spine and shoulders would do it and loosen the muscles a bit as a bonus.

Squalo asks, "Massage?"

Xanxus snorts but doesn't give any other indication of a response until a moment later, he drawls, "Well?"

The implied command is obeyed without hesitation. Squalo starts kneading his Boss' shoulders, using only the faintest flickers of Rain Flames. Three squeezes later and Squalo ups the amount of Flame. He needs it. Squalo's certain there are steel cables less taunt than his Boss' shoulders and neck.

Fuck, no wonder the Boss gets headaches. Forget mere simple knots, this is the Gordian Knot in muscular form. Thankfully, Squalo knows how to solve that issue; he cuts through it with his Flame.

His Boss makes a pleased noise as a fuck-ton of tension is eased. Squalo can feel the difference now. Xanxus' back is still solid muscle and scar tissue but it doesn't feel like it's trying to hold the world up anymore. Xanxus is crazy strong, but he's not Atlas. That guy probably gets killer backaches too, not helped by the whole improper sleeping posture issue.

"Squalo." Xanxus states, sounding a lot more content. Practically purring, that what it sounds like.

"Yes, Boss?"

"This is now in your job description."

"Got it." Squalo affirms, smirking. Xanxus apparently likes this a lot.

The message and Rain Flames do the trick with enough time. Xanxus is almost dozing when he orders Squalo to get out. Squalo can hear the sleepiness in his voice; it doesn't make his Boss any less dangerous though. Xanxus is always dangerous.

Squalo snarks back that Xanxus should get in an actual bed if he doesn't want to wake with a crick in his neck and his back in knots. The 'again' goes unsaid.

Xanxus picks up a paperweight off his desk and Squalo dodges the projectile. The paperweight cracks the door, as it pings off. It's going to have to be replaced now, damnit.

Squalo walks off in a huff, smirking all the way; one objective in the list of many complete. He's going to fully map out that minefield that's his Boss eventually, and draw out the Xanxus he knows is hiding in there. Xanxus isn't going to make it easy, but Squalo wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Squalo is usually his Boss' shadow, sword and shield and he likes it that way.

Sometimes missions require otherwise. Especially ones the Varia denies ever take place.

Punching through security is easy. They don't even need to kill the guards, because they didn't see a damn thing; they do it anyway because the people they're framing aren't Varia. Internal security has long since been hacked. It seems like the longer he's part of the Varia the crappier everyone else has become.

Then the Varia get to work doing their jobs, splitting up to kill their targets.

Things go to figurative hell when one of the targets fakes being cooperative -faking sleep, as Squalo later learns- and manages a distress signal that announces to the compound that intruders are here.

"Proceed with the retreat scheme in ten." Squalo mutters to the communicator with a distinct foreign accent; a coded reminder for everyone -especially the Mists- to start pulling out and to not forget to disguise the uniform, faces and everything that could lead back to the Varia during the retreat. This includes vehicles that are a few streets away, reading and waiting for them. Evidence for framing has long since been planted.

A few seconds later there's confirmation that the last target's dead -near decapitation- and the Varia is ghosting out of the compound in that minute as the famiglia just starts getting its defensive shit together.

Ten minutes later, most of them are winding their way over to the night's alibi operation; some are going to the castle while others are slipping into places where they can be seen, out of uniform. That's a lot of tricky timing to get things just right and the alibi viable but this is the Varia; they can do this sort of shit easy.

Xanxus is waiting, and the bloodlust is palatable. Bel being nearby says it's going to be a glorious mess. Lussuria's licking his lips.

"The Ninth wants this scum taken care of tonight. We've been given orders to make it messy. Keep to the plan and enjoy the bloodbath." Xanxus reminds the assembled Varia over the communication channels.

"Squads in position?" Squalo asks, as one last check; his only check for this mission.

The squads reply affirmatively. Squalo cuts his eyes to Xanxus.

"Start the operation." He commands, and then he's moving and Squalo's following.

Xanxus just tosses a fireball and there is no more obstacles in the doorway to supposedly block them; not that it ever would have but wow. That sort of destruction is just as awe-inspiring this time as it was the first time.

Squalo then takes point, as Xanxus draws his weapons. Together they mow down any mafioso stupid enough to try and take them on in their element. Behind them follow those being led by Bel and Lussuria who split up to take different hallways.

Having this many Officers on one operation is absolutely wasteful of their talents but the Ninth wanted to make a point. No one in this base that isn't Varia is going to leave it alive. Within minutes any and all opposition is dead, any evidence like shell casings and security data is removed with only a few personal signatures to make it evident that the Varia did this. Between the use of Wrath Flames and how distinctive a mark Xanxus' X-guns make, there was practically a neon sign that said 'Xanxus was here.' Swords are harder to make a signature with, but Squalo had cut all of his kills down with a single slice tonight. That's evidence enough, he figures.

Squalo calls in, asking for confirmation of complete extermination. Once that's made, so is the order of pulling on out and packing their asses back to the castle. The legitimate mission is done, as is the frame-job; both of which will benefit the Vongola and its allies for all that they're meant for two entirely different operations despite being done on the same night. Assassination is an ugly business but someone has to do it and the Varia's the best at it.

The drive back has some people jittery from excess adrenaline despite both missions being practically milk-runs. What utter newbs. Some of them are even freaking out about Bel and Luss. Luss toweling excess blood off of Bel was pretty much routine on any mission they went on together. That was another shirt ruined on the Prince's part but it wasn't like Bel couldn't afford more.

Bel has been doing shit like that since he was eight. Disgusted with how pathetic some of the rookies are, Squalo looks at Xanxus.

He's not sleeping. It looks like he is, but he's not. Squalo figures it's best to let Xanxus work through his thoughts under the guise of sleep for a while more. One of the things Squalo has learned is that it takes far longer getting to and away from the castle than it ever will to complete a hit, so best to let a seemingly sleeping Boss 'sleep.'

He might actually manage it, but Squalo doubts it. Around the Officers, sure. Everyone else? Fuck no.

That Xanxus is the first one out of the transport isn't that surprising. Squalo had expected it. Everyone else? Not so much. Idiots and incompetent rookies. He's surrounded by them.

Xanxus turns back to face the assassins unloading from vehicles. "I want the reports finished before morning and on my desk before noon. Spread the word."

"Vooi! You heard the Boss! Get to it." Squalo commands before following his Sky.

* * *

Xanxus retreats to his office -it's practically Xanxus' favorite room beyond the library, gym and training rooms.

Squalo peeks in and catches the antique looking phone in his hands before it can hit him in the face.

"Order up."

Squalo judges by the scowl and the hands, and Xanxus' own capriciousness.

"Any preference?"

"Meat. Wine. Nothing sweet." Xanxus orders with a strange air around him. That strange air is then demolished by a mere eyeroll and Xanxus propping his boots on his desk.

"Tch. Don't complain about it then Boss." Squalo complains as he makes himself at home on the damn couch -something he hadn't tried before- and realizes that might be the reason Xanxus might prefer sleeping in that throne chair of his instead of on the couch. Fucking uncomfortable is what it is.

A few minutes of conversation with the staff and three threats later, their food is being prepared so all they have to do is wait.

Squalo is busy trying to find a comfortable position on the couch and it isn't happening. Too hard, too short. It's even complete with deceptive pillows that Squalo's slowly becoming sure can be used to smash out windows if thrown with sufficient force.

"Stop squirming." Xanxus utters.

"Vooi!" Squalo starts, sitting up. "You couch sucks. Get rid of it."

Xanxus cuts his eyes over to him, so Squalo takes it as a sign he's interested in what Squalo might say. "Toss it at Levi the next time he starts stalking you, or break it on his head. These pillows are so damn stiff that they could probably give concussions."

Squalo notices the twitch to Xanxus' lips and finds that it's a greater victory than it should be.

"Then you can get a comfy couch you can actually fit on. Take the cost out of Levi's paycheck. His face broke the couch right? He clearly has to pay for the replacement." Squalo continues, doing what he realizes with horror is an audience-slanted version of Dino's motor-mouth charm attack with a Varia twist.

Squalo realizes he doesn't care when he gets his Boss to laugh. A few chuckles, but a laugh. A genuine laugh!

Squalo finds himself smiling right back. Right up until a peon knocks on the door, is what is a most_ awful_ example of timing and that's the truth. Squalo takes the plates in places them on Xanxus' desk, walks back for the wine and then closes the door with a scowl.

Squalo is not amused to find out that Xanxus has stolen the plate Squalo ordered for himself after picking at his own.

Squalo mutters unflattering things and insults under his breath before deciding to try the food. Two chews in and Squalo imitates his Boss in pushing it away. He figures it's safe enough to actually swallow since he actually does keep more than up to date on his poison resistances. Far too many wannabe swordsmen, switchbladers and dagger carrying peons use poison to make up for lack of skill.

"Brave trash, but stupid. Really stupid. What the hell is that?" Squalo complains more than asks.

"Shit." Xanxus explains eloquently, eating off of Squalo's stolen plate.

"Voi. Just the Varia being the Varia then." Squalo sighs. The infamous assassins of the Varia are clearly incapable of poisoning people properly; practicing on the Boss is just a sign of stupidity or some very big balls. Both sounds like a better option, as it were.

Xanxus doesn't answer, methodically working his way through the meal. Squalo looks at his former plate and the fork in his hand.

Squalo manages to steal a small piece of the food he ordered for himself before stealing the phone and placing his damn order again. He considers the options of waiting patiently, pacing while waiting and a few others before he finds a fork in one hand clashing with Xanxus' fork.

Squalo's years of swordmanship give him an advantage of forkmanship and allows him a minor victory in getting another piece of his original meal. Victory is sweet and tastes a lot like tuna carpaccio, but Squalo isn't going to attempt for another slice of his original meal because Xanxus has a gun in his other hand now.

So Squalo backs off, surrenders his fork and plants his ass on that uncomfortable couch, waiting for his meal. As he waits Squalo plots patiently. Several minutes later, a minion is delivering Squalo his food to a wide open door.

Squalo proves that he's far to used to his Boss' antics in dodging the plate of spoiled food that's hurled in his direction. It hits the mook with a satisfying splat. Squalo kicks the door shut -and into the mook's face- only to be hit by a half-full wineglass from behind. It shatters, of course. The head shaking afterwards is automatic and Squalo hears pieces of glass fall to the floor.

"Vooi!" He yells, placing his meal on the damn couch and plotting how to get his fork back from his asshole Boss without getting stabbed. A few seconds of planning later, a fake out and Squalo's met with success, even as he grumbles vocally about crappy Bosses.

Squalo happily started eating his food, even as his ass dies on the most uncomfortable couch in the world. Soon enough, Squalo's full and that's when he catches a plate to his shoulder and the orders to take it away.

* * *

Squalo has just come back from a deathmatch with a swordsman from some place that allowed the recently late 'master' to gain a far too big head for his supposed skills. Squalo didn't have any trouble with that dishonorable liar. Squalo's pride as a swordsman accepted that challenge; his skill as an assassin ended it and all the trouble around it with ease.

There was a bit more trouble with the ambush that followed the match but the dead liar wasn't Tyr; not in skill, ability or experience and Squalo only had that much trouble with Tyr because he fought Tyr with his non-dominant right hand. Nor were the liar's associates anything noteworthy either. They certainly weren't a match for someone of Varia Quality.

As soon as he enters the castle proper, he's practically mobbed by mooks who are fucking terrified out of their wits.

Seriously, how did they make Varia? They may not be Officer material -they lacked the spine and skills necessary- but they were still part of the Varia. They should have some pride in themselves, as it were.

Squalo eventually gets enough details to make sense of the stuttered words.

The Rain Officer just laughs. Sure, he's going to have to make sure those broken doors are replaced and an actual comfortable replacement couch is found, commissioned or stolen but that's a minor matter.

The damned couch is no more, having been tossed like a javelin at Levi's face, at which point the force behind the throw broke the doors with Levi's body. Levi has just been released from the infirmary but no one wants to be near Boss yet, unless they absolutely have to be.

The grunts are all useless cowards, despite being Varia Quality. Quality is measured by skills; not character though, which is something of a damn shame. Maybe they'd get someone with a damn spine or maybe they'd get no one if they did make having a spine a requirement, which might be why in the Varia, all the Officer positions are filled with crazies, himself included. Only the crazies have the skills and a spine, which is a damn shame because he'd like less freaky co-workers.

Levi totally deserves a couch to the face. Admiring Xanxus is one thing, stalking him is another.

* * *

Squalo is busy putting his division through their paces. He's quite happy with them compared to if he had to do this for the other divisions.

Levi has his division -all weaklings that they are- as crisp and sharp-looking as a division of the Varia could possibly be. Squalo doesn't have to worry about regulation violations from Levi's group so much as emotional breakdowns out of the blue that are not only annoying but disgustingly contagious when they happen. Squalo understands the pursuit of perfection but he also knows that those without a backbone will break when pushed along that path.

Maybe someone in that division will eventually have the guts and ability to kill Levi. The guy's an embarrassment to the Varia with his clumsiness after all.

Mammon's division is self-contained, but surprisingly for a bunch of Mists, they don't require much supervision. They've got this hierarchy worked out, along with a few systems for dividing labor and it works fine. Right up until the delicate balances of power and influence gets shaken up and then either Xanxus or Squalo has to wade in and make them behave, with a couple of threats to do so again next time whatever kinks in the system act up.

Mammon is very much hands-off when it comes to leading the division, compared to manipulating them through their purse-strings. The division is very well trained and reliable though.

Bel's division is an ever-chaotic mess of politics, violence and blood but it somehow works. That's all that Squalo particularly cares for; he's never been called in to deal with them and that's one less hassle.

Bel is pretty hands-off too, except for the occasional spar with them. It works to make them keep their skills sharp unless they want to die; Bel has a talent for ruling with fear in the way that doesn't make his underlings want to murder him in his sleep.

Then there's the Cloud Division. It's more or less become Xanxus' own division after the Ottabio mess and subsequent purge of Ottabio's fellow traitors. They had never gotten around to actually replacing that guy and frankly there wasn't really a reason to since having a division under him to work into the ground gave Xanxus something to do.

The Cloud Division might be the smallest division -it hadn't always been so- but despite there being only a little over a dozen, the members they at least had skills, some actual guts and very good observation skills in addition to functioning self-preservation instincts. After Squalo himself, they're probably the best at reading their Boss and avoiding setting him off.

It seems to serve them well enough to at least make the Boss smirk as all fourteen Clouds try something approaching teamwork using just their hand to hand skills against Xanxus who is limited to the same. At least that's what Squalo can tell from the observation window.

Varia Quality mooks or not, there's a lot of difference in skill between the grunts and any of the Officers. There's a lot of difference between the Officers and Xanxus, especially in terms of purely physical skill.

Mammon's an illusionist, Bel still needs to hit a growth-spurt that's probably not going to happen and Levi's clumsy. Not very good choices for a purely physical fight between Officers. Squalo knows he's about the only one that can do that and he's got a slighter build and lots of hair as a disadvantage.

A few more minutes of observation and Squalo's braiding his hair. He'd normally not bother, proud of his pledge and skill, but Xanxus has never been shy about pulling hair in a fight and Squalo is primed for one anyway. Physical hand-to-hand works just fine for him, but there's no reason to give Xanxus actual leverage and pull to use against Squalo. He shoves the braid inside his uniform coat so it doesn't fly free as an invitation to pull.

Then Squalo waits at the door, just inside the training room.

Squalo knows when he's noticed because Xanxus stops pulling punches. The group of assassins also notice him shortly after their vision stops spinning.

"Get out of here, trash." Xanxus commands them. "The shark stays."

Within ten seconds there's a chorus of groans. There are a few whimpers as they drag themselves up.

Squalo doesn't even bother trying to hide the grin that creeps up on his face.

"Just hand to hand." Squalo states as a question.

"If it escalates, it escalates." Xanxus replies with a shrug and a roll of his shoulders.

Squalo's focus narrows on that, like a shark scenting blood.

He's vaguely aware that he takes several brisk steps and then they try to murder each other with their fists. Xanxus may have an advantage in pure physical confrontations due his solid build but Squalo's a lot faster than he looks.

Still the exchanges are as quick as they are painful when they're not approaching possibly fatal; they're assassins so they go for the kill. They know how to minimize the damages when they can't dodge, parry or block.

It's a fight demonstrating their level of skill.

Squalo escalates it eventually even though his prosthetic hand had gotten some nice hits on Xanxus. Xanxus is just that little bit better than Squalo is, even if he has been playing with the Clouds for who knows how long.

Squalo slides a hidden knife out of his sleeve and aims to slice. A stab was too obvious.

Xanxus manages to escape the worst of it by disengaging, but his white shirt is blooming red.

His Boss proves he's a crazy fucker and just laughs before pulling out one of his own hidden knives.

Squalo's a swordsman, but he's no stranger to knives either. The threat of death and permanent injury during a mere spar is increased but that's no reason to fear anything so much as rejoice and revel in what time might be left.

In deference to Xanxus not being a master swordsman, Squalo keeps his knife in his right hand. Plus, later if and when they broke out their serious weapons and flames, Squalo would have more than just his sword to fight with.

It being a knife fight meant that they had to keep their distance until it was time to strike, generally speaking. Getting gutted for running in like an idiot was a stupid way to die, as it were.

They probably wouldn't get too serious; losing themselves in a fight was fun but Xanxus is bleeding a way that says he might need stitches. Just as Squalo is thinking that, Squalo notices the illusion Xanxus wears over his body shift. No wound, no blood loss, no problem.

Squalo scowls before he laughs.

So Boss wants to play it like this huh?

Squalo laughs as he charges in, pulling up short enough to only get his sleeve nicked as he aims a knee to Xanxus' wrist, only to snap his leg out to knock Xanxus off balance before Squalo gets a stab to his thigh. Squalo's uniform gets cut instead and Squalo feels the quickly fading sensation of a good scratch. After that, it becomes a physical exchange of dirty tricks, hard blows and more than a few cuts.

No flames or box weapons though. That's not the point of this spar, Squalo thinks as he dodges a wickedly quick thrust and the elbow that drops when Xanxus shifts his weight and shows off his footwork by keeping his balance even as Squalo tries to trip him up.

It's a glorious spar. Squalo's certain he's got a black eye and a fractured wrist, but he's got enough adrenaline running through him that he's not feeling much of anything except a very pleasant exertion high.

There is no clear winner at the end as they're both panting, bleeding and most certainly bruised. They're smiling like mad though.

"Another round?" Squalo asks.

Xanxus sends him a look before asking for the time. Squalo consults his inner clock. He scowls at what it tells him.

"Time to call for some food and clean up." This is only further punctuated by a growling stomach, but it's not Squalo's.

"You call up." Xanxus orders him. "Steak."

Squalo rolls his eyes. "Vooi! Fine, but either let me patch you up or I'm calling Luss to do it."

"After my shower." Xanxus replies.

* * *

Squalo cleans up quickly, despite the fact that he now knows he fractured something in his wrist and needing to clean his stupidly long hair.

Squalo is the Second Sword Emperor and has the experience with blade wounds to prove it. His left arm has a nick that's deep enough to require stitches so Squalo drags out the disinfectant, needle, thread and scissors. A flare of Rain Flames above the wound numbs Squalo to feeling it.

Three stitches and a surgeon's knot later, Squalo's has that fixed, which just leaves a lot of other things to bandage and tape up. Squalo tests his wrist to find out which bone he fractured out of the eight that make it up and binds it so he won't have to jostle it anymore. A number of other scratches are touched with disinfectant before getting a clear-gel bandage over them. A couple get an actual bandage over that, but only that.

That only leaves his hair, and Squalo fusses with getting that mess in order, doing enough brush strokes to get it straight after toweling the excess water out.

That's when Squalo finally gets in clean clothing and tromps his way to his Boss. Xanxus is in his office sprawled out on the massive and comfy new couch that Squalo has seen him sleep on, naked from the waist up without a feather in sight. It makes Xanxus look strangely vulnerable. Then Xanxus cracks an eye open and mutters something derogatory about Squalo's lack of punctuality and a broken sense of time.

Squalo roars back that he was taking care of other bullshit first, before Xanxus raises his upper half up enough so Squalo can get to work. Xanxus doesn't even drop the illusion that he's wearing; Squalo has Rain Flames to numb any pain, but he can't do more than little tricks with Mist Flames so he can't deny that he ever had an injury. Xanxus can do this and more just to keep the scars from the ice hidden, although seeing Xanxus' learning curve at it was amusing as the visible scars changed shape and placement from day to day.

Not that Squalo can't see the scars anyway when he looks, at least when they're not hidden by clothing; he can't see through that. Illusions can be seen through with ease after enough training. Squalo examines the cut he made during the spar over Xanxus' ribs. Into the ribs is more precise, is what Squalo thinks.

No wonder it bled so much. Squalo had managed to cut down to the bone, and then Xanxus ignored it and its very existence for the rest of their spar and even afterwards. Fucking Mist tricks.

The nice thing about Xanxus being a pretty shitty illusionist and Squalo being able to see through illusions is that Squalo can work through the illusion without being effected and having to risk immolation asking his Boss to take the illusion off.

So there is no hiss as the disinfectant gets sprayed. The denial of the injury means denial of pain. There's also no more reaction than a roll of Xanxus' eyes as Squalo stitches the gash up. Then because the wound is in an awkward spot, Squalo applies the gel-bandage and follows that up with an actual cotton bandage taped over that in case of bleeding. Squalo gets the roll of bandages out and does a few loops of that.

The rest of Xanxus' injuries are so minor that they don't need any special care from another person, and Xanxus is more than capable of doing it himself. Unlike a lot of other people, all of the Varia does know how to bandage any injuries and breaks properly. Unwillingly, Squalo thinks back to after the Ring Battles where he looked more mummified than bandaged and how Xanxus removed the hospital bandages before putting on fresh ones even when Xanxus looked worse than Squalo did. Xanxus' now habitual denial of his own injuries meant a slower recovery for him afterwards but it did prevent shock in case of major injuries and made excessive amounts of scarring later a non-concern.

Eventually that's done and Squalo's watching Xanxus pulling a clean white shirt out of-

"Voi, do you live in your office?" Squalo finds himself asking. Why did Xanxus have clean clothes in his office otherwise? Why didn't he just move his damn bed in here if he already had everything else in this room? Xanxus' office was actually part of a suite of rooms with the first in the suite having been turned into an office, but Xanxus seemed to avoid his bedroom even for sleeping in.

Xanxus doesn't even bother to respond as he attaches feathers to his hair, using a mirror on the wall; placed so that whoever sits at the desk can see behind them.

Squalo rolls his eyes and starts cleaning his knives. He's on his third of seven when Xanxus takes up on the other end of the couch and starts cleaning his own knives. Squalo counts a grand total of ten that Xanxus takes out. Squalo knows that's not all of them.

Squalo is busy working over the nicks and dings in the blade he used in the spar when a grunt comes up to deliver their ordered food.

Said grunt looks to be a very bruised Cloud, and a little terrified.

"Put it on the desk, trash." Xanxus purrs out a command.

The Cloud manages to do so, shaking like a cold chihuahua and then he inches out of the door backwards. Like a small animal trying not to gain a predator's attention. Clearly, he's the most pathetic of the Cloud Division, which is probably how he got saddled with delivery duty in the first place.

Squalo watches his Boss toss a knife and sees how it cuts into the door until it's stopped by the hilt.

The small shriek was very satisfying.

"Shark," Xanuxs says. "Fetch."

"Voi! I'm not a damn dog!"

* * *

It's been a bad month, Squalo thinks.

First off, some uppity little famiglia started shit with the Vongola. Second, the Varia hadn't been allowed to do anything about it... yet. Third, those of the Varia assigned to monitor the situation were predicting bad things. Fourth, it was a general bad time of the year for Xanxus. Squalo wasn't sure what everyone remembered of that possible future, but he remembers that some days were dangerous to even him and Squalo remembers having the scars to prove it.

Still, things are clipping along at a tense standstill pace which is pretty trying on Squalo's patience, as it were.

It is somehow worse on Xanxus' patience. Normally, the Boss could sleep whenever, however, no matter whatever circumstances. Catching a ten minute nap during the Acrobaleno Representative Battles after a run in with the Vindice was proof of that. Xanxus' habit of sleeping in furniture that wasn't a damn bed aside, the fact that Xanxus wasn't getting even that bit of extra sleep just made everyone so much damn twitchier and on edge because Xanxus' temper was getting worse.

Shameless begging from the grunts was pretty much ignorable. A boot to the face here, some yelling there and they'd stop. Squad leaders made for more pressing cases, but they generally didn't bother since they were all for 'character-building' experiences; not that they were here to plead since they had assigned themselves over to watching the situation or had made themselves otherwise scarce. Smart people.

Luss on the other hand...

"You have to do something, Squalo-dear! Boss is being absolutely unbearable!" The flamboyant Sun complained, somehow managing to make it sound like cooing. "I've already had to heal a number of boo-boos."

Squalo felt an eyebrow twitch at the word boo-boos.

"Voi! That's unprofessional you okama!" Squalo yelled, which only got a pout from the man with a mohawk.

"So you're not going to make sure Boss-honey doesn't maim all the minions? Healing is tiring work!"

"Later!" Squalo replies, stomping away.

* * *

The office is shining with early morning light, the curtains pushed all the way to the side and the windows were cracked enough to let in fresh air but not a bullet or some gas attack.

Xanxus looks imposing and busy, as he read reports and made notes. There was a pile of finished paperwork, all of which Squalo knew would be done impeccably. Boss might be bitchy and annoying at the best of times but he was a good Boss.

Under the illusion, the scars across his face are a pale with tension, and there's a tiredness to Xanxus' eyes that really shouldn't be there. Not from headaches, or stress but an emotional tiredness.

That sort of tiredness killed Squalo's initial plans faster than a bullet.

"You look fucking terrible." He says instead, with a terrible bluntness that had always got him into trouble as a kid. Rains were supposed to be tactful.

Squalo gets a disturbingly exhausted and annoyed look back. That sort of stare implies that Squalo has managed to get himself lost in the minefield and that the wrong step will be his last. Squalo really doesn't mind that sort of pressure. Loves it, in fact.

So Squalo goes over his options and gets rid of his usual tactics. Those won't work; falling into a rut where Xanxus slowly emotionally distances himself is not how Squalo wants things to go. Xanxus may not have realized it himself but he needs the Varia while he recovers from the bullshit that was his life; the Ninth's lies, the pipsqueak and everyone else that wasn't part of the Varia.

Waiting it out could work, but it was more likely to antagonize Xanxus. Nagging was also out. Aggression was too typical. Attacking was a bad precedent. Leaving was just a flat out no. Ordering Xanxus to do anything would just get Squalo a bullet to the brain.

Squalo's out of options. The choice doesn't really lie with him anyway; it's Xanxus' choice.

"Your choice." Squalo states, sliding his stance to something Squalo is comfortable with and makes it clear that Squalo can and will wait for hours.

Xanxus stares back until he closes his eyes and leans back. It's not that Xanxus is going to sleep even if it looks like it; Xanxus is thinking. If Xanxus did plan on sleeping, there was a subtle movement to his back that he would do first; a stretch and flex of the spine before sleeping. That is not happening, so Xanxus is not going to go to sleep.

This is proven about ten minutes later -or so says Squalo's broken innate sense of time. Punctuality has never been Squalo's strong suit, though that's mostly deliberate. Rushing through things generally meant having to do it again but some shit didn't allow for re-dos. Best to take the time to do it properly, as was expected.

"A massage." Xanxus states, not even bothering to say the rest of the phrase. Xanxus being Xanxus does leave off things like 'would be appreciated' or 'so damn wonderful' or even 'thank you.'

Squalo doesn't say anything, so much as think. His thoughts are in high-speed as he tries to figure out all the implications and things to say in advance. The few seconds it takes Squalo to walk over are not enough time to truly begin to consider things at a conscious level. So Squalo plans to go with his gut. Instincts generally served Squalo well, especially concerning Xanxus.

Xanxus shrugs off the uniform coat and Squalo suspects about a half dozen knives. Three passes of Squalo's hands later and Squalo can already feel tension unknotting. Then Squalo starts kneading.

As Squalo watches his hands work he thinks about how very easy it would be to slit Xanxus' throat. Squalo would just have to extend his sword arm and the force of that alone would do it. He's not though, even if the idea is entertaining.

"You're not focusing if you're laughing." Xanxus remarks.

"Just thinking about how easy it would be to slit your throat like this, Boss."

"Yeah, it would be." He replies, unconcerned.

"Some days it's more appealing than others." Squalo says honestly.

"There are days I want to strangle you too."

Sometime later, Squalo asks, "Why strangle?"

"More... personal." Xanxus declares cautiously as if tasting the last word. "Harder to do and not as permanent or quick as a bullet or knives."

"That almost sounds like a compliment," Squalo chides. "Does that make us close enough to call each other by name?" He teases.

"We've fought, patched each other up and even picked out furniture. Any closer and we'd be in bed." Xanxus replies.

Oh. Oh... that has a lot of implications. Some of them more interesting than others.

"Xanxus." Squalo breathes out.

Xanxus makes an interested sound. A 'hmm' sound that if his Boss was a cat, would most certainly be purring.

"Xanxus." Squalo says again. "What are we doing?"

"Isn't that your choice?"

"And my choice has always been you. Xanxus. Boss. You."

"Good answer."

* * *

A/N: Ambiguous ending for the win. Writing this much was hard. It didn't want to end and it didn't want to flow either... all of this just to get that ending scene...

This started off as a discussion about non-combat uses for flames with Hiruma Musouka and if a person can make a profession out of them. A masseuse using Rain Flames would be wonderful right?


End file.
